12 Weeks
by katebishops
Summary: "Your eyes are red, tears for your long lost boss?" They both knew the tears weren't only hers.
1. Chapter 1

Week 1

* * *

It wasn't uncommon for the darkness she'd just settled into to get rudely interrupted by the gentle buzz of her phone and the ethereal blue light it projected. If Pepper concentrated hard enough, she could almost ignore it. Unfortunately when you've spent the day working your ass off for the man who should be doing half your workload, and it's 3am and you nearly slipped in the shower, concentration isn't easy to come by. Her fingers crawled along the wooden polish of the dressing cabinet and capture the phone, sliding it to answer murmuring a sleepy (and moderately annoyed) "Hello," into it.

The voice that responded wasn't the one she was expecting. It wasn't the slightly higher pitched tone of a man - specifically _Tony Stark _\- that had gotten more than just tipsy. It wasn't a man slurring bad pickup lines into the phone while he probably had three girls hooked under his arm, a drink balancing precariously in his hand curled around them. It wasn't her boss. It wasn't Tony.

It was his best friend's voice instead.

"Pepper, look, I know it's late there but you have to listen to me—"

"Rhodey?"

"Yeah, it's me. We have a situation," he hesitates, and she can swear just for a second there, his voice broke. James Rhodes was a solid man, and if anyone was as trained as she was to never betray the slightest hint of emotion, or sensitivity at least, it was him.

She sucks in a nervous breath. She knows what this is about. He's probably gotten himself injured, accidentally burnt himself in one of his demonstrations with his missiles. Who knows.

"Tony's missing."

She's a lot more awake than she remembered being. Her heart sinks rapidly. Whatever she was expecting, doesn't even come close to this. "What?" The way the word slips from her lips it's fragile, it immediately gives away the worry that's come to strike her.

"He's—- look I'm sorry Pep, I really am," She can't even respond, she's too busy trying to take in the situation. "We don't know if we can- if we can find him but we're doing the best we can,"

"Thank you," It's all she can say but it holds more meaning to it than just that. Like a _'please bring him back safely, please for the both of us' _

After she hangs up she reclines and curls up. The room's not as cold, the light streaming in through the gap in her curtains doesn't bother her and the hours of exhaustion have washed away. She can't even cry. She wants to cry. She'd rather be weeping than feeling the way that she does. Utterly lost.

* * *

Week 2

* * *

Tony's never felt frightened before, because what's there to fear when you're ultra smart, ultra rich and ultra famous? He's invincible, man on top of the world some would call him.

That's a lie. Fear is an emotion he's familiar with, he's simply learnt to repress it. But here in this cave, with his heart being kept alive by a car battery, and his life on the line he can't help but allow himself the freedom to let all that repressed fear wash over him. He goes through the typical stages. Denial, anger, hopelessness but that's what it narrows down to. Tony Stark genius billionaire, feeling afraid. Terrified almost.

Of course it's for his life, any sane person would and though most would doubt it he does have a measure of sanity. But it's not just that. It's the fact that his weapons surround him and that maybe The Merchant of Death is a fitting title after all. It's the regret that he hadn't stopped drinking or sleeping around before all this happened and that he could possibly just die a playboy, _asshole _who sure, made some great gadgets and weapons but never had any real secure ties. All except one.

His first thought is Pepper. The smile she gave him before she sent him off. Oh god, how he'd forgotten her birthday of all things. Just another thing to add to his list of growing regrets. He misses the way she smells, not the clean smell of his bedroom or the smell in his workshop but her. The way she smells like cinnamon and vanilla frosting with just a hint of lilacs. The way her hair smells perfectly shampooed when he can get close enough to catch the faintest whiff of it. Oh, he just misses _her. _He hates that her heels aren't clicking around him and neither is her pen, and her voice isn't the one ordering him no it's Ho Yinsen and the various Ten Rings terrorists that check in from time to time. If he could only call her just to hear her voice one more time.

Some time in the middle of the night he realizes he may never hear that voice ever again. He's never felt so cold before.


	2. Chapter 2

Week 3

* * *

Pepper likes to believe that she's resilient. After ten years of working for the man with not that many plans, you'd expect yourself to grow a hard shell and a stricter mindset. Some'd even be relieved to get rid of that man, she knew she used to think she would be. But three weeks and no more surprise Rhodey calls and she's doubting that she ever let the thought cross her mind.

She goes to all the meetings scheduled as per usual, it's only been three weeks and she can already sense the general public forgetting about Tony. Welcome to the 21st century, where names fade faster than brands. Evidently, since Stark Industries is still at the top of the market even without their dashing icon to be there for it.

Obadiah temporarily takes over the company. Someone has to.

She's in her office one day eating a sandwich and pouring through some paperwork, sorting through sheets of paper as she has been a lot more these past few days, just something to get her mind off the fact that Tony is out there somewhere in Afghanistan. Maybe he's alive. Maybe he's dead. Maybe he's getting tortured to death. She tries her hardest to not think about any of this.

The knock on the door brings her out of her peace. "Come in," she says (weakly she notes. when did her voice get weak?)

Obadiah steps in flashing his signature smile underneath all that… hair that he calls a beard. It's incredibly distracting.

"So you were Tony's PA," he begins.

"That is correct," The last person she wants to talk to about Tony is Obi. His lack of care is as clear as his greed for the company and from the looks of it she's the only one who can tell.

"But since Tony's de— missing, how'd you like to be my PA instead? Just temporarily of course,"

Her mouth opens to say something but what can she say other than accept? The man's more dangerous than Tony was, anyone could spot it a mile away. "Sure," she says dryly with a dryer smile.

"Excellent, you'll begin work tomorrow," he leaves the room and he's taken her mind with him because the paperwork on the table's going ignored now.

He's written Tony off as dead and by now, half the company has as well. The other half is disappointed at best but Pepper's in a state of total agony. Her wobbling hands thread through her hair and her eyes squeeze shut because shock has been taken over with pain, with misery. It takes a muffled sob and the growing dampness on her cheeks to tell that she's crying.

She doesn't want to call it mourning. Because she knows no matter what Tony's out there, that Tony Stark will not go out without a bang and that this is not how he would want to die. Or that's what she tells herself at least.

Because she refuses to believe that the last time she saw him was on her birthday and the last conversation they had sparked a familiar heat in her chest that she was afraid of never feeling again. He's your boss a voice nags in the corner of her mind while she lets herself ruin her mascara.

No. she finally concludes. He's so much more than that.

* * *

Week 4

* * *

Lunch for the day was stale crackers and some funky looking tap water. The blueprints he's made for his one chance of getting out of this dump sits under the faux ones for the missile he's been ordered, tortured, whatever you'd like to call it, to make. Yinsen's in the corner letting the water boil and hopefully killing the funk that's in it. Hopefully.

The car battery strapped up to his chest has been replaced by a blue glowing circle which is without a doubt far more effective and a lot less weight to lug around. It's fresh too. He taps the little thing and barely feels it. It's one of the great things of having Yinsen in this cave with him. He probably wouldn't be alive otherwise.

In the meanwhile they begin on a board game. It passes the time and it keeps his mind off of what Pepper's thinking about. "You still haven't told me where you're from," He says instead of asking.

"I'm from a small town called Gulmira," He looks up and smiles brokenly. "It's actually a nice place,"

"Got a family?"

"Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you Stark?"

He restrains himself from providing him with a bitter laugh instead of an answer and takes a few seconds to think of the answer. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what could even be defined as family anymore. There was Pepper but, he knew better than to think that he honestly deserved her. While she sat in California manning the company for him no doubt, probably worrying herself crazy over him as she always did even when he was around to calm her down. A lump formed in his throat at the very thought of it. And was he ever going to see her again? He wasn't a very hopeful man.

"No," he replied dryly.

"No?" Yinsen assessed curiously. "So you're a man who has everything, and nothing,"

He forces a smile to hide the fact that the truth of that statement is close to shattering him. Pepper was his everything once upon a time. But Pepper wasn't with him in this dark, cave, in the middle of nowhere. And returning by this point seemed unlikely.


	3. Chapter 3

Week 5

* * *

For once during her years working as a personal assistant does she actually feel like one. Obadiah signs forms on time and goes to meetings while she's told to wait outside and do coffee runs for him, pick up his dry-cleaning, go check the letterbox. Sure it's everything she's signed up for but only now is she beginning to realize how much she absolutely detests it.

One good thing to come out of this is that she doesn't get held back at the office and she can get home before 10pm. It's a refreshing change but it still makes her stomach knot. Obadiah's kind enough to let her take the day off (though technically it _is _a day off being a Saturday and all) and frankly she's thankful to get away from him.

Rhodey check up on her, though she's half certain that he needs the company as much as she does, the search for Tony's taken it's toll on him as much as it has on her. They sit in silence munching on their respective Subway sandwiches while lounging around on beach chairs on her balcony, staring off at the deep blue sky as if it was just a normal day.

"He'll be okay, you know," Rhodey finally says as if he can sense the tension that Pepper's been building up for the past month.

She swallows thickly and looks over at him for reassurance. He offers it to her in the form of a weak smile that mirrors her feelings exactly. "He always is,"

There's something about the lack of conviction in his voice that makes her eyes sting but she cracks a smile anyway to try and act like she believes it too. She wants to believe it, but it's been a month and no word has been heard since, and Obadiah isn't going to do anything about it not when he's in charge and the power lies in his hands. The thought actually makes her skin crawl, that part of Tony's survival may actually lie in this mans hands while he revels in the power that Tony couldn't care enough for.

When Rhodey leaves something compels her to drive all the way up to his Malibu mansion with a bag of clothes by her side. Within a few minutes of arriving and she's found herself curled up in a fetal position on top of the duvet sheeting Tony's bed. It smells crisp, clean and completely untouched. His pillows hold more of his musky scent and she leans her head into the soft fabric. For a second it nearly feels like he's there, in the house at least, or that she's in the workshop and the thick smell of grease, oil, sweat and coffee is overwhelming her.

And a second later the feeling is gone and she guesses he brings home all those girls because the bed is too large to sleep in alone without feeling like a hermit crab in a tiny shell. The thought that maybe Tony was just lonely had never crossed her mind. Was he lonely now?

It takes her five minutes to fall asleep while her mind swirls with thoughts of him.

* * *

Week 6

* * *

The flickering fluorescent white light from a second hand lamp has become the only source of light that he's grown used to. He's lost track of time by this point, clocks aren't handed to prisoners, all they get is a deadline and an incentive to reach it. A month and a half and Tony Stark has acknowledged the fact that he's been reduced to that. A prisoner. Imprisoned by his own creations.

Under different circumstances he'd probably laugh over it and find a way to turn it into one of those stories you tell when you're just a little too drunk and surrounded by girls who will coo at anything you say. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those circumstances.

Pieces of his… armor, was he calling it that? May as well. Anyway right, his armor littered the room but without any real assembly the Ten Rings terrorists - or lap dogs as he'd grown used to calling them - couldn't tell the difference. Thankfully.

And it was all going swell until they nearly burned half of Yinsen's face off and Tony had only become once again painfully aware of the value of his life. It hadn't taken long to realize that he was a liability waiting to be taken out once he'd exhausted his purpose, and if they couldn't bring him down, they could always begin with people he invested more care in. More care in than himself at least.

That was what made his fingers shake as he welded the metal pieces together, what made the sweat bead his forehead out of sheer anxiety. The knowledge that they could send one of his pretty pristine pistols down in the direction of Malibu and have it tipped against the strawberry blonde hair of his PA. The screams he imagined.

She was more than family to him, she'd become the reason to survive. It wasn't about him anymore, it wasn't even about his company it was about her. Because there wasn't any sort of happy ending to this otherwise, and giving up so wasn't his style.

That night he dreamed of freckles and a laugh he felt like he was losing touch with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I'm really sorry for not updating this faster it's just 1) I'm a major procrastinator 2) I just got back to school. boo. **

**I've been asked whether I'll continue this past the 12 weeks and I'm heavily considering it (maybe even a sequel ooo) so give me feedback whether you'd like it!**

**I don't own Iron Man bla bla you know the drill.**

* * *

Week 7

* * *

Pepper never had acquired the taste for coffee. Until now.

A good half a year ago she would've refused a mug when Tony offered her one, and then downed a good two and a half of what was offered in less than fifteen minutes, something that she'd both marvel at and regard with a cool sense of distaste.

Half a year later sitting with her chin in her palm, resting atop of her briefcase, she's come to appreciate what a good cup of steaming hot caffeine can do, even if it means she has to smear just a tad more concealer over her already pretty dark bags.

She finishes a tall cup of coffee and orders another one to go. One thing about loneliness, you don't choose when you wake up. And usually it's at a completely unreasonable time. Try, three hours before you have to show up for work, before the sun's even risen and you want to sleep but it's a fight your tired mind won't let you win.

She figures that loneliness is probably what made Tony drink coffee as much as alcohol. She realizes that's also a pretty terrible reason, and maybe that's just the tired in her bones talking. Loneliness means coffee? Pepper, please.

No one in Stark Industries ever sees Pepper slouching with a cup of joe in her hand, and some aren't so keen to notice the small things like that. Like when Obadiah sashays into the room, his loud, arrogant voice filling the space and something along the lines of

"Pepper! You even got me a cup of coffee, Tony didn't know how lucky he was to have you,"

Before the cup basically gets snatched from her. For the slightest second she thinks she may crack, lose the facade, go a little crazy and scream the man down. Yes, scream him back into giving her her coffee. Scream him into conviction that Tony _is _lucky to _have _her because he hasn't even been confirmed dead and a little hope would do them all some good. Not that he needs hope, all he could've asked for is ripe for the taking in his case.

Instead she smiles - almost sarcastically - and walks off to her office, her heels clicking a little louder than usual as if they're as annoyed as her.

For once the first thing she does isn't work. She talks to JARVIS. It's odd, she realizes, talking to the AI yet strangely comforting, and she's thankful that Tony hardwired him into her bluetooth. She asks questions about him like

"Do you think we'll find him JARVIS?"

"He has a habit of making himself found, not to worry, Miss Potts,"

"Do you think he's alright?"

"I can't say for sure, but confidence is optimal in your circumstance,"

"No JARVIS, what do _you _think?" She asks because she's tired of relying solely on her own beliefs. It's driven her kind of mad.

"I believe that he'll fix the situation, it is, after all, what he's exceptional at, is he not?"

Once, Pepper Potts would've never thought an AI would make her smile. Not today though. Not today.

* * *

Week 8

* * *

He wonders for the billionth time in months whether he's going to see real sunlight while welding a piece of metal across another. It's sloppy, and not nearly as polished as the weapons he'd construct back at home but this isn't home and his fancy toys aren't surrounding him. No, he's surrounded by scary men with guns who speak a different language, lots of gravel, and some deconstructed bits of weapon. So it's sort of like home just a little downgraded he guesses.

He nearly settles into it like it's home, even if he hasn't had a proper shave in ages and his hair is greasy and matted, or that his stomach has sunken to the point where he can make out the lines of his ribcage.

"What are you so eager to get back to?" Yinsen asks one day over the sparks flying off the metal arm shell Tony's nearly done with. "Your fortune?"

Tony's scared of a lot of things. He's scared of dying faceless and nameless. He's scared of Obadiah taking over the company because while he's like a father figure, he's just not right for that job. He's scared of dying in this damn cave.

He's scared of admitting that he's more than just a little in love with his redhead assistant.

"I guess you could say that,"

Yinsen regards him with a calculated look, reading his expression to judge if anything's amiss. "Are we talking about the same fortune?"

"Sure we are,"

He doesn't push the topic any longer and goes back to helping him cut metal and do measurements while mulling over the little he'd revealed behind his mock truth, unaware to the fact that, that's what Tony was doing too. Mulling over the little admittance to himself, that Pepper's worth more to him than his money, his fame, his glory.

And he kicks himself so hard for realizing all this now.

The torturous part of the cave isn't the death surrounding them, the smell of it all over the walls, or the death threat that carries.

The torture is the feeling that if he stayed in there forever, he'd forget her slowly day by day.


	5. Chapter 5

Week 9

* * *

"The hardest things to take care of are those that come most easily," Something her mother tells her jokingly while she peels off some more of the pie crust while she (thinks) her mum isn't watching. The words don't make any sense to her until years later, and she's surprised really that they've remained in her memory for as long as they have.

It was a nasty habit she had as a little girl, constantly touching and nibbling at food when the adults had their back turned and somehow enjoying the thrill of it as if she was doing something bad. Silly but true. Tony had a similar habit, fidgeting, always needing to do things with a tactile approach. She'd chastise him for it and boy, did it annoy her as much as it must've annoyed her mum.

Habits form out of repetition and the amount of times she'd allowed herself the pleasure of stay overs at Tony's has far since exceeded mere repetition. Her fingers lightly play with frames of pictures from his childhood, stashed into a box that she knows he thinks no one will find - or at least no one will bother to find. That's what he'd say at least if asked.

It's clear that this box, this worn out kicked around cardboard box with old pictures of his parents - yes his _parents _no matter how many times he dances around the topic - and himself is only kicked into a pathetic storage closet because he can't let go of it. He could've disposed of it. Easily. But death haunts people and Tony's not exception.

Pepper's not really either. The prospect of death haunts her.

The only person who'd actually be able to find this would be Pepper anyway, and Rhodey if he tried. The pictures are yellowing, they're grainy, the color in all of them are faded and the Tony in them is distinctly much younger than the one she's worked for. It's not that she'd describe him as old, nor did his appearance give off the impression that he was an aged man. But it was evident that in contrast to the bright eyed boy in the pictures with the crooked grin and toy parts in his hand that the years hadn't only faded the pictures but his hope too.

They fade Pepper's hope while she smiles dully down at them.

She found the box roughly two weeks back. It was a chance thing, and she pushed it back into the closet it was mercilessly shoved into within a minute after glazing over the contents briefly. Days passed and she continued to gravitate towards that particular door and not by chance but more rather by longing. A connect to a realer Tony instead of clinging to pictures found in tabloid's, the arrogant persona being the one really in the limelight.

The time he's been held in captivity is much longer in her head and the thought is excruciatingly numbing. Eventually she pulls herself off the floor and dries the salty watery stains that found their way to the thin layer of glass between her and the only bits of Tony she has left and finds herself in his bed again.

His smell's long gone but pretending it's still there is her new form of comfort.

* * *

Week 10

* * *

He's got half his design complete when he wonders what Pepper bought for herself for her birthday - if she bought anything at all or if she only said she did to not make him feel bad (as if she'd actually believe that he was capable of feeling bad over anything that didn't involve destruction and expensive cars)

He wonders if she's been to his house. If she's looked through his drawers (if she misses him essentially, it's selfish but he sort of hopes that she does) and if she's found that little box with that necklace he'd been planning to give her for her birthday. _Take that Pepper, I didn't forget or at least I stocked up in case I did._

It doesn't matter much though, if this plan - shaky as it is - doesn't fall through he might even get the chance to give it to her himself. He hates that he thinks more of her than he does of finishing the plan to actually bring him to her. He hates that he's gotten so attached to someone even though it's all he'd avoided through the years of alcohol and sex and reckless partying and total irresponsibility.

Briefly he looks over at Yinsen and something akin to jealously pools within him. Not a lot but some. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't imagine what it'd be like to actually have a family with Pepper. To come home to her and not dance awkwardly around the matter of their feelings, or the fact that their feelings are very much _in the way _of their professional lives.

To know what it'd be like to have a normal life with her, yeah, he's sort of jealous of Yinsen for having someone who will without a doubt welcome him home.

He's not sure if Pepper's even waiting anymore - or if she waited in the first place.

The door of the room clangs open and habitually he hides the prints and puts the decoys over them, grateful almost that they ruined his train of thought and didn't keep him on the desperate track that he was going down.

He waits out their little power party let's them kick him in the knees and shins and refrains from smart comments or rude gestures and watches them leave before turning back to finishing his work.

"You seem distracted Stark," A real voice grounds him to reality and he looks up, almost startled.

"I don't know if you noticed but a bunch of armed men speaking a different language literally just busted in here, hard not to be,"

The other engineer doesn't say anything. Instead he offers a knowing look and goes back to welding pieces of armor together.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow sorry for taking so long to update school's a wreck and it's wrecking me, apparently no one understands the concept of reasonable work distribution in the teaching department at school. Aaanyway we're one chapter away guys! Woo-hoo (p.s. I will be doing that sequel due to popular demand xoxo)


	6. Chapter 6

Week 11

* * *

The shake in her hands has grown with the passing weeks, that move like sludge through the cruel realm of time. She doesn't notice, and in fact no one does. The sanctity of life isn't something Stark industries promotes, but more rather the indulgence of selfishness.

Her skin has paled and not enough concealer can hide the ghosts tugging beneath her eyes. From worry, to pain, to anguish — it's as if all emotion has given up trying to push her towards the more positive spectrum and instead has drained from her system completely.

Work turns into procedure. Deliver Obi's coffee, do the paperwork, arrange his meetings, pick up his dry cleaning and leave. Odd jobs are peppered into this compartmentalized schedule she's arranged for herself, and she feels ten years older than she is, like her own life has faded in the time Tony's been gone.

At some point in the afternoon Obadiah requests that she refill his mug (albeit in his condescending niceness) and the toll missing life has taken on her is finally brought to light when her hands shake in the way of the boiling water, which only makes the cup shatter as it falls out of her wobbly - and now burnt - hands.

Silence encompasses the fifteen meter radius around her and everyone is staring at her, she can feel their eyes boring holes through her suit jacket, while she gazes helplessly down at the mess all over her feet and the floor. Oh, and the shards which have managed to sneak into her ankles.

"Miss Potts?" A hand on her arm jolts her out of temporary paralysis and she spins around, cluelessness pooling in her eyes as she faces the new desk girl.

"What?" she asks in a delayed response.

"You're.. um— you're bleeding," the girl now wraps her other arm around Pepper to pull her away from the disaster and she can hear the buzz of whispers, washing over her inner silence like a tidal wave.

It takes a few seconds for her to register that, and another few to register the feeling of the sharp pain building at her ankles.

* * *

She knows how to apply bandages herself but having Jane graciously wrap the gauze around her legs, with the distant advice of not walking around in her heels for the next week and a half she wonders when she let other people take care of her.

The girl is a bright young thing, all smiles and care and Pepper feels oddly disconnected from that.

"Thank you," she says after she finishes, and half-heartedly summons an upwards twitch of the lips before she departs.

Obadiah apparently was drawn out of his office by the small commotion and he leans nonchalantly against the wall, watching her limp just slightly, Louboutins in hand.

"Miss Potts, how does an off day sound to you?" his gruff voice almost sounds disappointed, and threatening.

"Oh, no I'm fine—"

"Pepper. Go home. Get some rest. You've been worn out all week, and I'll admit the workload isn't easy. You deserve a break," He nods once in her direction, smiles, and then turns and leaves.

All at once she's filled with disgust; that he palms off her carelessness onto her work responsibility. She limps into her car, tosses her heels to the back and stares at the driver's wheel for far longer than it would take for her to reach home.

Somewhere, miles away, the man she's lost her determination to doesn't even know he's robbed her of meaning.

Week 12

* * *

By the time Yinsen's done helping him into his suit the gunmen have already rounded up outside, and the idiot's running out there with a lone gun — does he even know how to aim and fire? — and Tony's left helplessly waiting inside a gigantic tin can and for two short seconds he can't help but feel completely _ridiculous. _

_Faster_. He breathes in his misty thoughts to the green bar, filling up at what seems to be the slowest pace one could manage. _Faster, dammit. _

And then it happens.

Something clicks inside, literally and metaphorically.

Three figures stumble blindly into the darkness of the room and all the power he felt just twelve short weeks ago comes surging back to him in the form of something foreign.

Then there are bullets flying everywhere and the adrenaline in him fires up by tenfold, and each step forward is one step closer to home. It's the best conviction he's found and it's propelling him towards the door so he's doing _something _right.

He lives for the fear on their faces knowing not long ago it was mirrored on his own.

He lives for the feeling of knowing that for once in this cave, he finally feels alive again.

* * *

He finds Yinsen slumped against a pile of sacks, bloodied, beaten and bruised.

"My family's dead," His throat tightens, his saliva turns to cement in his mouth.

"I'm going to see them now Stark. It's okay. It's okay. _I want this. _I want this,_" _

His eyes burn but he forces out a puff of air, a laugh of solemn gratitude.

"Thank you for saving me,"

"Don't waste it. Don't waste your life,"

He dies right there and then, and the reality of the situation washes over him once again.

* * *

The desert is possibly worse than the cave, an expanse of sand devoid of human life. He misses Yinsen. He misses Pepper.

It's a hazy mirage, or so he thinks it is, the footsteps, the whirring of the copter. The sound of Rhodey's voice - _real, _tangible - amidst the silence of nowhere.

The smell of military sweat is surreally comforting, and he thinks he could choke to death, float up and see Yinsen, his parents, right now, on tears and the smell of familiarity.

On the ride back he refuses to let Rhodey leave his side. All guns he turns away from, and the only thing his eyes are plastered to is the sight on the other side of glass that is his window.

He fiddles incessantly with Rhodey's sleeve, he shudders against the cool of the glass when they pass back into America, he cries into the pillow cushioning his taught neck when Rhodey's eyes have long fluttered shut.

He breathes emotions that drown him because the smell of cinnamon and vanilla frosting, and hints of lilac is becoming realer with each second.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Don't worry I'll have the final chapter up in a bit, you'll get your pepperony reunion. I'm super sorry this took as long as it had, I had end of year exams, and then I had a competition and several debate trainings and a tournament to get to and well I derailed from marvel and started (and finished) watching House MD. So yeah, but here you guys go! I'll definitely still be writing pepperony in future, but until then R&amp;R is always loved ;-)


End file.
